by Fox, Ella
She said all of this with her back to me as she poured the water into the coffee maker and turned it on, but even without the benefit of seeing her face I knew she’d agonized over the decision. I couldn’t believe what a shit friend I was that I didn’t already know she’d planned to put her education on hold. Worse, I was wondering if she’d already told me and I hadn’t retained it.
“You didn’t, um, tell me this before, did you?”
She shook her head and closed the lid to the coffee maker before turning back to me. “No, I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure I was going to take a break until about two weeks ago. I needed the time to work up to telling my dad.”
“Was he okay?”
She gave me a pointed look. “You’ve met my dad—what do you think? He took it like I’d just announced I was going to make a career of weaving flower crowns for children in the park.”
I couldn’t contain a little snort laugh. Tia’s dad was a straight arrow through and through. He saw things in a very specific way, and he had no interest in expanding his worldview. He wasn’t a bad man, but he was definitely a lot to take.
“I’m guessing he’s calling every day with horror stories about college dropouts?”
She cringed but nodded in confirmation. “Anyway, enough about all that mess. Also, I’m sorry I was out of it when I opened the door, but I’m awake now and after the coffee I’ll be something like human. Tell me what got you up and out of the house. I honestly thought I’d have to pull teeth to get you over here.”
I winced because she had a point. I’d become something of a hermit. Deciding that I needed to rip the band aid off, I said, “I looked at myself in the mirror and almost screamed. I look, like, completely disgusting.”
She leaned back against the counter and gave me a cross look. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
“Why not?” I challenged. “We both know it’s true.”
“No, we don’t. You don’t look disgusting, Shae. You look like a woman who has been dealing with some heavy shit, and under the circumstances I think that’s totally understandable.”
I was ready to make a few small changes, but I knew if I started talking about emotion I’d crumble and go home without carrying through.
“The point is that I’d like to look in the mirror and not feel like I’m looking at a stranger.”
“Alright,” she nodded, “what’s the plan?”
“For starters, I need my hair cut and colored ASAP. Where’s your mom working these days?”
Tia grinned. “She’s been over at the salon in Caesar’s Palace for the last ten months. Let me give her a call and see if she can get you in—if she can, I’m totally getting a spa treatment while you’re there.”
Tia hurried from the kitchen to call her mom. While she did that, I got up and went to make a cup of coffee.
“We’re in luck,” she announced when she walked back into the kitchen. Her head was tilted to the side and her shoulder was up so that the phone was propped against her ear. “Mom’s got a two-thirty appointment available, and there are openings at the spa for massages at one. If we hustle, we can make it.”
My stomach clenched uncomfortably at the idea of being touched below the shoulders and above the knee. If I hadn’t been able to let my husband touch me I damn sure wasn’t going to be able to be touched by a stranger.
I shook my head emphatically. “No massage for me.”
“Aw, come on,” she pouted.
I held her gaze and shook my head again. “No massage.”
I saw the moment she got that touch was an issue for me. Her smile disappeared as she nodded. “Okay,” she said to me. To her mom she said, “no massage for Shae.”
I could tell she was sad and maybe even a little disappointed, which made me feel like crap. I’d been so weak after Melody died that I let everyone down. I was lucky Tia cared as much as she did and I didn’t want to lose that. “I could do a facial,” I offered.
The approving grin on her face and the happiness in her voice when she asked her mom to check if there was someone to do a facial for me while she had her massage made it clear that she was glad I’d given in a little bit. Once it was confirmed that there was an appointment available, she wrapped up the call with her mom by telling her we’d be there soon.
“I’m going to get a manicure and pedicure after we finish at the spa,” I told her. “Are you up for a trip to the nail place?”
Tia squeaked excitedly as she filled her mug with coffee. “I can’t believe you just asked that like there was any chance I’d say no,” she laughed.
We’d always considered Sky Nails to be our special place. The first time Goldie had taken us for mani/pedis we were twelve years old. After that, we’d each saved our allowance and birthday money to go to the salon whenever we could. Sky Nails wasn’t the biggest or most lavish nail place in Vegas, but for Tia and I it would always be the best. Their foot massages alone were worth their weight in gold.
After taking her first sip of coffee, she gestured to me with her cup. “We need to eat before we go to the spa. Give me fifteen minutes to get ready and then we can hit Burger King. I’m dying for their hashbrowns.”
“Make it ten and you’ve got a deal.”
* * *
By the end of the day, my split ends were gone, my hair was shiny and back to its normal color, the skin on my face was soft, and my fingers and toes were painted a pale pink. We’d also stopped at Circuit City where I’d purchased half a dozen CDs and a new portable CD player. I had music again and I knew I looked better, but inside I was still a mess.
More and more I was seriously considering going to a therapist, something I’d been so adamantly against for the last year. I wasn’t sure what, exactly, was different. Mostly, it was the feeling that I needed to do something. I’d had good results with antidepressants before—surely it was worth a discussion, however difficult, to see if going back on them would help. The first time I’d taken medication it had come from my regular doctor. When I broached the subject about getting another prescription for it with her just before I left Los Angeles, she’d strongly suggested I see a therapist before I made that decision. I’d tried to argue that I didn’t need therapy, but she wasn’t having it.
With so many people in my life pushing for me to talk to a professional I felt like it was time to bite the bullet. I didn’t believe for a moment that talking about Melody would take away the pain, but I knew the medication could help. I just needed to work up the courage to follow through and seek out help.
Chapter Six
Garrett— August 2001
“What’s your answer on the script the Weinsteins want you to do?” my agent asked as she set her fork down.
We were having a lunch meeting in the conference room down the hall from her office to go over business things.
“There’s no way I’m committing to three months in Paris right now. Also, even though I hate to let you down again, the Weinsteins are fucking creepy and the whispers I’ve heard about Harvey aren’t cool. Consider me a no for anything tied to them from here on out.”
She grimaced and then nodded her understanding. “I’m fine with that so long as you’re totally aware of the fact that they’re going to be pissed.”
I shrugged, not caring at all. There were times when taking a stand on principle was called for. This was one of them.
Marni Cleary had been my agent for nearly six years, and we worked well together. I knew the fact that I’d been turning down roles left and right wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. My priority was my wife, and I wouldn’t apologize for that.
After Shaelyn filed for divorce, I’d pulled out of two movies and hadn’t signed on for anything new. I’d gone back to New York to finish the indie movie I’d been shooting because filming was already in progress and it was too late to pull out. Since then I’d turned down multiple offers for huge roles because they all required time away on location. Until my wife was back with
me where she belonged, I was going nowhere. I missed her like crazy, and every day without her was a struggle. There was no way I could be any farther from her than I already was.
Fortunately, Marni understood why I was turning things down left and right. Any other agent would likely have fired me by now. Instead of losing her temper with me for being a shitty client, Marni tried to help. First, she referred me to her husband when I admitted I needed an attorney for the divorce. Later, she’d convinced her son, Mason, to “misplace” the final paperwork Shaelyn and I had signed. Instead of taking the papers to the courthouse to be filed, he’d shoved them beneath the passenger seat in his car and left them there. It was a brilliant move, and I knew I was damn lucky he was working at his dad’s law office for the summer.
Without that intervention, a judge would’ve signed off and made the divorce official already. Basically, I owed Marni a lot and I knew it. One day I’d pay her back by being the client she deserved. At least that’s what I hoped.
“Is there any forward movement with Shaelyn?” Marni asked in a sympathetic tone.
I took a sip of my iced tea and thought it over before I answered. “It’s hard to say. I think so, but I’m afraid to put too much stock in that. She answers my texts and emails, which is a good thing. She didn’t celebrate her birthday, but she wasn’t nearly as depressed on the day as she was last year—understandable considering Melody’s due date was on her birthday. That gives me hope that she’s healing a bit. Her grandmother says she’s been catching up on her sleep and has been eating normally, and about ten days ago Shae went and had a day of beauty with her best friend. That alone is a major step forward, and it definitely gives me some hope. The thing is that while all that is good, I still feel like without therapy nothing will really change long term. What’s to stop her from sliding back the other way? Without coping skills, I think the answer is nothing.”
Marni nodded and made a sympathetic noise. “Those all sound like steps in the right direction and in this case, forward movement is the best kind. Shaelyn has a soft heart—losing the baby set her back, but she’ll find her way back. And just so you know, watching you fight for her is quite a thing, Garrett. I believe that the tide will turn.”
“I know it will,” I answered.
And I did. I knew it in my bones. Shaelyn and I weren’t over. As long as there was breath in my body and blood pumping through my veins, I’d keep going.
* * *
“You really need to stop all this back and forth and move back in here permanently.”
Looking up from my computer, I glared at Harry. “I’m not moving back in until Shae is back.” I always spoke as though that were a foregone conclusion because to me, it was. I believed in her—in us. The alternative was unthinkable.
“Your home office is here—in your home,” he emphasized. “You’re here several days a week to work because there isn’t enough space at the little cottage you’re in to install a real office. It makes no fucking sense that you’re wasting thousands of dollars a month to hole up at Chateau Marmont each night. That place isn’t meant for long term residence.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t entertain the idea of moving. “There are several people living there full-time, so your argument holds no water,” I pointed out. “The bottom line is that moving back here without my wife is not going to happen, so drop it.”
I could tell by the look on his face that he was very aware that he was pissing me off. Still, he wasn’t going to give up. “If you won’t move back here, at least agree to rent a house. Give me the go ahead, and I’ll have you moved in somewhere within five days.”
I smacked my hand down on my desk and glared at him. “I said no,” I snapped. “I’m not moving anywhere. The hotel is temporary—a rental house would feel too permanent. I’m not going to change my mind, so you need to drop it.”
I knew Harry meant well, but he was having trouble understanding why I didn’t want a place of my own. A residence at the hotel was one thing—people did it all the time. Living in a house that Shaelyn wasn’t part of? No. I’d stay at the hotel even if a sinkhole swallowed it whole. I wasn’t setting down any kind of roots without her.
Ignoring Harry, I navigated my way to AOL and pulled up a new email window.
Shae,
Today has been shit, so my mood isn’t great. Harry’s getting on my nerves, the traffic in LA sucks, and the smog is bad right now. Most of all, I’m really fucking missing you.
Love,
G
Chapter Seven
Shaelyn— August 2001
I chewed my bottom lip nervously as I hurried up Goldie’s driveway on my way back from getting the mail at the curb. It was one hundred and nine degrees, but that wasn’t why I was hustling. No, that was down to the fact that I was hoping to avoid another awkward encounter with Goldie’s next-door neighbor, Jean.
Jean was standing on her front walk talking to a woman I didn’t know, which made me think she was the new neighbor Goldie had mentioned. I gave a little wave to both of them but didn’t stop to say hello, not that it looked as if that was wanted.
Once upon a time Jean had always been friendly and warm, but the way she was around me since I moved back in with Goldie made me uncomfortable, to say the least. To make matters worse, she wasn’t the only one. I’d been back for several weeks and in that time every time I saw someone from the neighborhood—people I’d known for most of my life—they either acted weird or looked at me like I made them uncomfortable. The worst thing was when they did both. At first I assumed it was because I’d looked so blah, but after the day of beauty I’d had with Tia, I looked more human. It didn’t matter—the neighbors continued looking at me strangely, and I had no clue why.
It wasn’t like I’d disappeared after I married Garrett. I’d come in and out of Vegas at least a dozen times, and no one had ever treated me strangely. Something had changed because now they looked at me as if I were a stranger. The vibes they put off were a mixture of things—one part they thought I was ill and didn’t want to catch it, one part they thought I was the troublesome neighbor on the block, and one part they didn’t want me around. At least that’s what it seemed like to me. Jean was the worst of the bunch, hence why I was hauling ass.
After I got inside the side gate into Goldie’s outdoor courtyard area and was behind a six-foot wall, I breathed a sigh of relief as I took a seat in one of the outdoor chairs and then started going through the mail. Alan was set to arrive later in the afternoon, and I’d spent the morning trying to be more alert so I didn’t come off like the kook who spent her day wearing headphones and listening to The Cure’s Disintegration album on repeat.
A few seconds after I sat down, I heard Jean talking. “Did you see that?” she huffed. “That little snob floats on by with her nose in the air like we’re lowly peasants. She always was a bad seed.”
“It didn’t look to me like her nose was in the air. If anything, she looked uncomfortable,” the neighbor I didn’t know countered.
Jean snorted. “Oh, she fooled you. There’s been so much drama with that family, you don’t even know.”
“I read The Enquirer, so I know enough,” the other woman admitted. “She’s married to Garrett Riordan.”
“Was,” Jean said pointedly. “She was married to him. He finally wised up and moved on. A man like that will be married again in no time. Hopefully the next wife won’t be a pathological liar.”
Sweat rolled from down my back, and my fingers shook as I clutched the mail in my hands. I was more upset about her saying Garrett had moved on than I was that someone I’d known for the entirety of my life was saying horrible things about me. I stood quietly, intent on getting inside so I could miss the rest of what she said.
“Pathological liar?” the other woman asked.
I should’ve kept walking. The old saying about eavesdroppers never hearing anything good about themselves was true, and I had enough on my plate. Instead of moving away, I paused
. I was stupidly curious as to why Jean was saying something so patently untrue about me.
“Well,” she said in a tone of voice I can only classify as know-it-all, “this is a doozy. You see, we’ve known that girl her whole life. That house belongs to her grandmother—”
“Goldie,” the other woman said. “Yes, I met her the day after I moved in. She seemed sweet.”
“Maybe that’s true, but she’s also a total pushover for that girl. When push came to shove, she chose Shaelyn over her own daughter. At the time we all supported that and thought she’d done right because we imagined we knew the whole story. Turns out we were fools.”
I frowned as I wondered what the hell she was talking about.
“I saw the mother on Inside Edition a few times,” the neighbor said. “Beautiful woman but she seemed… off to me.”
“You’d be off too if your daughter mentally abused you and then planted drugs on you so you’d go to jail,” Jean huffed.
My brows shot up in amazement.
“Now it’s true, Jewel Monroe was a handful,” Jean continued. “She had Shaelyn young, and she didn’t handle being thrust into motherhood well. When she left Vegas for Los Angeles, most of us were glad to see the back end of her. Now, though, she’s a different woman. After her own daughter betrayed her and made her a laughingstock in the media, Jewel turned to the Lord and he changed her whole life.”
My already queasy stomach started churning. Jean had used the word now, which meant she had current information on my mother. That meant it was likely that she’d seen Jewel somewhere, and I was sick at the idea she’d been around.
“The shameful thing is that when Jewel came here a few weeks ago to explain all that to her mama, Goldie told her to go. Can you imagine? Shutting out your own daughter—and on top of that, she did it while Jewel was holding a two-week old baby in her arms.”